“Nowhere!” said he. “I should like to stay with you.”
She invited him to stay as long as he liked, that day and later. But now she had to leave him and see to a few things about the house. Should he wish to come there were ample rooms in the house, quite enough for them to have no need of disturbing one another.
He took his leave. Since she could not stay with him, he said, he preferred to go back into the town.
As he climbed into the waggonette she waited on the threshold in her strict black dress, her face broad and white, and as he took up his whip she gently raised her hand halfway in a greeting that was at the same time determinedly restrained.
IX
Roughly a week after this visit the newly promoted Oberleutnant Adam Fallmerayer was granted his leave. He told all his comrades that he intended to go home. Instead he took himself to the family home of the Walewskis, moved into a room on the ground floor, which had been prepared for him, eating every day with the lady of the house, and discussing this and that, things far and near, with her, told her about the front and paid no attention to the content of his stories, let her tell him stories and never listened to her. At night he did not sleep, could no more sleep than he could at home in the station building, years before, during the six days which the Countess had spent over his head, in his room. Now, too, he was aware of her at night above him, over his head, over his heart.
One night — it was sultry and a good soft rain was falling — Fallmerayer got up, dressed and went out in front of the house. Above the wide well of the staircase burned a yellow petroleum lantern. The house was still, the night was still, the rain was still, as though falling on fine sand, and its monotonous murmur was the voice of night’s very silence. All at once a stair creaked. Fallmerayer heard it although he was standing outside the door. He looked round. He had left the heavy door open, and he saw Countess Walewska coming down the stairway. She was fully clad, as by day. He bowed and said nothing. She approached him. And there they stood, in silence, for a moment or two. Fallmerayer could hear his heart beating, and it seemed to him as though the woman’s heart were beating as loudly as his own, and in time with it. The air seemed suddenly oppressive, not a breath drew through the open door. Fallmerayer said, “Let’s walk in the rain, I’ll fetch you my coat.” And without waiting for her to agree he rushed into his room, came back with the coat, slipped it across the woman’s shoulders and then put his arm over the coat, just as he had done with her furs, that time, that never-to-be-forgotten evening of the disaster. And so they went out into the night and the rain.
They walked along the drive. In spite of the damp and the dark, the sparse, slender trunks of the trees shone silvery, as if lighted from within. And as if the silver gleam of these, the most delicate trees in the world had awoken Fallmerayer’s heart to tenderness, he drew his arm closer about the woman’s shoulder and sensed through the hard, damp material of the coat the yielding richness of her body. For a while it seemed to him that the woman leaned towards him, indeed that she pressed herself against him and yet, barely a moment later there was a clear distance between their bodies. His hand left her shoulders, felt its way upwards to her damp hair, crossed her damp ear and face. Next moment they both stopped, as one, turned towards each other and embraced. The coat slipped from her shoulders and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Thus, in the rain and the dark, they came face to face, mouth to mouth, and kissed each other for a long time.
X
At one time Fallmerayer was to have been transferred to Schmerinka, but by great efforts he succeeded in staying where he was. Every morning and every evening he blessed the Army and the Occupation. He feared nothing so much as sudden peace. As far as he was concerned, Count Walewski was long dead, killed in action or murdered by mutinous communist soldiers. The war must go on for ever, and so must Fallmerayer’s service, in this place, in this posting. Nevermore peace on earth.
Fallmerayer had unconsciously been lulled into over confidence, as can happen to many people whose over whelming passion blinds their senses, robs them of perception and corrupts their intelligence. To him it seemed that no one existed on earth but him and the object of his passion. Obviously enough, however, the mighty destinies of the world proceeded without heeding him. The revolution came. To Fallmerayer, Oberleutnant and lover, this was entirely unexpected.
In spite of this, as often happens in moments of acute danger, the mortal blow struck by this fateful hour sharpened even his drowsy wits, and he quickly realized and became doubly aware that it was a question of saving his own life, that of his beloved woman’s and above all of rescuing their common valuables. The general confusion into which these sudden events had thrown everything had still left him, thanks to his rank and special duties, access to enough material and armament; he hastened to make immediate use of them. And so during that first couple of days, when the Austrian army was collapsing, the Germans were pulling out of the Ukraine, the Red Russians were beginning their advance and the newly risen peasants were attacking the houses of their previous overlords by fire and plunder, he succeeded in placing at his disposal two well-guarded cars belonging to Countess Walewska, along with half a dozen trusty soldiers with arms and ammunition and enough provisions for a week.
One evening — the Countess was still hesitating to leave her house — Fallmerayer appeared with a truck and his soldiers and with strong language and almost by main force compelled his mistress to dig up the treasure which she had buried in the garden and prepare for her departure. This took a whole night. As the dim, dank light of the late autumn morning began to grow they were ready and their flight could begin.
The soldiers were in the larger of the two cars, which had a canvas roof. An army driver was in charge of the private car which followed the first one and in which sat the Countess and Fallmerayer. They decided not to head westwards, as everyone else was doing at the time, but to make for the south. It was safe to assume that every road in the country leading westwards would be jammed by retreating troops. And who was to know what to expect at the frontiers of these newly created states? It was still possible — and this turned out later to be the case — that fresh hostilities had broken out on the western borders of the Russian Empire. Besides which Countess Walewska had wealthy and powerful relations in the Crimea and in the Caucasus. Even in these changed conditions help was to be expected from them, should it prove necessary. What was important was a sharp instinct in both the lovers that at a time when Chaos itself ruled the whole earth, the eternal sea must offer the only freedom. The sea, above all, must be their very first destination. To each of the men who were to escort them to the Caucasus they promised a sizeable sum in pure gold. And so they drove on in high spirits, and a not unnatural mood of excitement.
Since Fallmerayer had organized everything very well, down to every possible and improbable contingency, they succeeded in reaching Tiflis in a very short time — four days in all. Here they released the escort, paid them the agreed reward and just kept on the driver as far as Baku. Many other Russians from noble or upper middle class families had also taken refuge in the south and in the Crimea. In spite of their original intentions they avoided meeting relatives and being seen by acquaintances. Fallmerayer was much more occupied in finding a ship which would take him and his mistress clear out of Baku and into harbor in some less perilous country. In the process it was inevitable that they should meet other families, more or less acquainted with the Walewskis who, like Fallmerayer, had hopes of finding a ship to save them. Inevitable, too, that the Countess should have to lie about Fallmerayer’s identity and her relationship to him. In the end it became clear that to achieve the kind of escape they aimed at, it would be necessary to make common cause with other people. They therefore joined up with eight others who wished to leave Russia by sea, finally found a trustworthy captain with a somewhat decrepit looking ship, and sailed to Constantinople, from which city vessels were still sailing regularly to France and Italy.